


Uncle

by hannahrhen



Series: Good, Giving, Game [14]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Developing Relationship, Forced Orgasm, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime during the third hour, Tony thought Loki was going to kill him with sex.</p>
<p>The reality wasn't as hot as it seemed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncle

**Author's Note:**

> **Fair warning:** This is a consensual sexual situation in which boundaries are pushed perhaps a little too far.
> 
> Takes place sometime after [Miscue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/845911).

It was in the third hour that Tony actually felt fear. Just an electric snap of it somewhere at the bottom of his spine, behind the twisting sickness that coiled in his stomach.

Loki was going to kill him with sex.

It should have been appealing--it sounded appealing, in theory. The same way his jerk-off fantasies sometimes featured a cock about the size of the Hulk’s (but not the Hulk, per se--fuck, no, he’d _never, ever_ admit to that in daylight) splitting him open and just pounding him to an unprecedented climax. Or Natasha--pre-Widow Natalie, actually--rimming the hell out of him as his lubed fingertips teased around his own asshole at 2 a.m.

Yeah, the things he imagined, as he crept close to orgasm, seemed incredibly hot, but were fraught with either logistical issues, like the monster-cock tearing open his bowels, or, fuck, reality issues, like Natasha would sooner rip his dick off than put her mouth anywhere _near_ his ass.

Right now, Tony thought having his dick ripped off seemed like a mercy.

Loki was going to make him come. Tony was in one of Loki’s favorite positions, wrists and ankles strapped to the four posts of the bed, body completely exposed. Downright soaked with his own sweat, hair teasing down his forehead in greasy clumps, shimmering under the blue of the reactor and one weak lamp casting yellow from next to the bed. Chafe marks only burning all the more as the salt from his own body rubbed into the wounds.

Loki was going to make him come. _Again._

The first climax had been beautiful, the perfect kind of overwhelming joy he’d found at few hands--tongues--before Loki’s. Tony had pulled on the straps mostly for show, that time, as he thrust up into Loki’s waiting, slackened mouth ... muscles of his ass getting well-used as they clenched and drove him to that first crimson pleasure. Forcing his eyes open just in time to watch Loki swallow, his own lids shut, Tony loving as he always did the image of his own come sliding down a god’s-- _this god’s_ \--throat.

The second orgasm had--well--been a little harder to come by. Tony chuckled weakly, remembering it, and the sound came out more like a whimper. Loki was watching Tony now, as he remembered that distant second time. Tony didn’t want to meet that gaze, so he kept his eyes averted, fixed on the wall, the door, too far from the end of the bed. That second one had been fine, good--yeah, maybe taken a little longer than Tony would have liked, and he was a little sensitive, but Loki had nudged with his fingers, tasted him, and eventually impaled his own body on Tony’s resurrected erection, whispering encouragement into Tony’s ear as he was ridden to an aching peak.

Loki had cleaned him up after, gently, and Tony had waited for the buckles to be opened, the straps pulled away to free him. Finally roused from his post-orgasm stupor to see Loki merely watching him from his careful perch on the edge of the bed, just next to Tony’s left thigh.

The god’s thoughtful look slowly morphed into a slick, dark smile, eyes narrowed in consideration. “I believe I would like to see what you’re capable of, Man of Iron,” the epithet all mocking fondness. “How many times _can_ I make you spill, Tony Stark?” And the title, the name, both said with a touch of savor--Loki was clearly playing at something here, but Tony had never been one to turn down a free orgasm, and, if that was what Loki wanted--

He’d nodded, a quick little twitch of his head, then felt his eyes go huge as Loki straddled him. Orgasm three had been the result of soft, coaxing hands, eased with some kind of heated, stimulating balm. All gentleness and sweet words falling from those wicked lips, but Tony struggled anyway, and felt the first abrasions of the thin skin at his wrists and ankles.

His climax, when it hit, had been mostly dry, but a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes.

After that, Loki started using magic.

It didn’t help.

Fuck, yeah, Tony came, and for those few seconds, each time, his brain tricked him into crying out in pleasure instead of pain--instead of over-sensitized revulsion. But after ... God, _after_ ... If his dick had been capable of mobility, it would have crept into his stomach, itself ticking miserably with a worsening ache. But the night was young--the clock JARVIS projected subtly in the corner of the window confirmed it--and Loki had looked so hopeful.

Loki didn’t look hopeful anymore. He mostly looked determined. Committed. He didn’t ask Tony for permission, and Tony didn’t say no. Tony didn’t say anything, just gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling and willed his body to _cooperate._

Tony had lost count of the times he’d come, after he’d stopped enjoying it. Four? Five? He wasn’t sure if they all had been orgasms or just his body’s attempt to will Loki away.

Loki wasn’t going to go away, and this--this was Tony’s fucking reward for bedding a lunatic. One who didn’t know when to stop, didn't understand human limitation, and maybe--maybe didn’t care. Loki wasn’t going to stop this, and Tony ...

Tony finally looked at Loki’s face, blurred through the film of tears building up again in his eyes, as the other worked him close to crisis again, one hand jacking Tony’s swollen cock, the other inside his ass, manipulating his prostate as if the fucking gland had anything else to give. Spellcast weaving from Loki's pointed fingertips as he forced Tony ever higher, as Tony's entire being fought against it. _One ... last ... push ..._ and Tony screamed out as his body finally gave up what Loki wanted, _everything_ Loki wanted: the arch of his back, the painful, hot throbbing in his dick, the ripples of a wounded kind of ecstasy ripping through his gut ...

As he came down, as he fucking _collapsed,_ he could only whisper the god's name. He knew by the sharpened pain in his wrists that the skin had broken, and he was finally bleeding. And Loki ... Loki just watched him with a gaze cold and assessing, showing nothing of the good moments they’d had, nothing of the Loki Tony thought he knew. The one Tony thought he had begun to understand.

And Tony-- Well, that was when Tony truly felt the fear. That Loki wasn’t going to stop. That Loki was going to--

He watched as Loki reached for the damp cloth next to the bed, its rough weave already sodden with Tony’s sweat and seed and tears. He was going to clean Tony once again, and--

_Oh, God,_ Loki was going to--

_Again._

“Pacific Rim.” Tony let out a loud gasp after the words--words he never thought he’d say. That he never wanted to say. Closed his eyes against Loki’s reaction, and prayed-- _actually fucking prayed_ \--that Loki would stop.

When the buckles around his wrists and ankles clicked open--oh, thank God, _thank God_ \--Tony rolled onto his side, away from Loki, and hunched into a ball. Kept his eyes shut. He wondered if his gut would ever stop churning.

The room was silent for a long moment, and Tony waited for Loki to leave. Wondered if he’d left already, since he couldn’t hear Loki breathing behind him. Perhaps, disgusted, he’d slipped out so silently that Tony, in his duress, hadn’t sensed it.

Instead, Tony heard the bed creak. A cloth, now dry, touched his forehead, stroked the wet hair back. Patted the streaks of old tears gently from Tony’s temple.

“Will you be all right, Tony?” Not “ _are you_ all right,” and Loki knew. _He knew._ It was evident in his tone, warmth missing from the last two hours seeping back in.

Tony turned his head and peered up. He saw Loki leaning over him from behind, the black brows pressed together as he set the cloth down and cupped a palm around Tony’s shoulder. Rubbed at the muscle over his shoulder blade. Gentling him like an animal.

Tony squinted, huffed: “You knew what you were doing.” He pulled his knees even tighter into his body, but turned his shoulders enough that he could see Loki comfortably without dislodging the soothing hand.

Got a grim smile in return. “I needed to know.” That hand slid down his side, the curve of his back, lingered over a kidney. “I needed to know you would say no. That you would stop me if I went too far.” Loki bent down and kissed Tony’s cheekbone. “I needed _you_ to know I would stop.”

Tony laughed weakly, knew he was at risk of even more tears, and how fucking humiliating that was.

Loki paused in the stroking and squeezed at Tony’s bicep. “You waited too long.”

“You think?” Tony snorted, shook his head. “Yeah, I’m a dumbass.”

“You are the one who wanted the ‘safeword,’ Tony,” Loki chided. “I just needed to be sure you would use it.”

Tony brought a hand up to his face--covered his eyes roughly. “God, I’m a _dumbass_.”

“Mm. _That,_ I already knew.” Loki’s hand continued its progress over Tony’s form in a slow sweep, then back up to his shoulder to begin again. Tony chuckled ruefully and heard Loki’s tone lighten in response. “Are you ever going to allow me to have you again?”

Tony pulled his hand away from his face and tried a smile. “Maybe in, like, a week.” He reconsidered. That was a long fucking time. Tried again: “Three days, maybe. Just ... God, I don't know." Groaned. "Not now. I don’t even want you to _see_ me naked right now.” He drew his thighs up even farther, shielding himself mostly for show.

Mostly.

Loki patted his shoulder before drawing away. “I’ll go to the kitchen and make you some tea. You can dress however you wish. When I return, I'll heal your wounds.”

Fuck, yeah, his wrist hurt, but Tony tried to reach a hand back, to catch the other before he escaped. “Loki--I’m sorry. I--”

Tony's hand missed as Loki took a step backward. “You used the words. I stopped. That was all I hoped for." His mouth curved up just a bit, in one corner. "Tony Stark.”

The affectionate flow of his name in that quiet tone was meant to reassure, but Tony remembered the fear he felt, the doubt, and--

He uncurled his body, rolling onto his back, and just let let Loki see him in all his fucked-out, fucked-up glory. Really looked at Loki, too, and saw the god’s own brand of fucked-up, fully on display. Loki, who was smart enough to know what Tony had felt, and who waited for Tony to say--anything.

He sat up and reached out for Loki’s hand again.

“I’m sorry.”

Loki let himself be caught that time, squeezed Tony's hand back for a moment before releasing it and stepping away. “Now that you understand, it will be better next time,” he said, words tinged with something that made Tony's chest ache even worse than everything else.

“Yeah. It will be,” Tony said, then watched Loki leave the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm sorry. This is what I get for having a forced!orgasm kink and yet a penchant for writing feels 'n shit. It's an evil combo.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/).


End file.
